


Day 7 - The Whole Wide Galaxy

by TheWeirdDane



Series: Kinktober 2017 [7]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Established Relationship, F/M, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Worship, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 02:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12289347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/pseuds/TheWeirdDane
Summary: As they move on with their lists, Garrus and Shepard share a moment so intimate that neither have the words.





	Day 7 - The Whole Wide Galaxy

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 is here, woohh!! :D

Day 7: Creampie | **Worship (Body, etc)** | Cross-dressing

* * *

 

When Shepard worships Garrus, it’s with candles lining every horizontal surface in their spacious bedroom. It’s with all other lights off, their comms off, their clothes off, everything off. When she worships him, it’s with such reverence that Garrus might shed a tear or two if he didn’t have better self-control.

When Shepard worships Garrus, it’s her hands skating along the crenelated ridges and edges of his plating, dipping in to touch at the soft hide underneath and making him utter the softest of moans. It’s her lips everywhere and nowhere, first on his neck, then his cheeks, mandibles, throat, no sooner touching his carapace and sliding lower to press themselves against the rims of his plates of his crotch, her tongue escaping her mouth to lick at the much more delicate skin.

When Shepard worships Garrus, it’s with a plethora of sweet nothings falling from her lips like psalms from a priest. She calls him beautiful, enrapturing, alluring, and she calls him an overabundance of other things, and it makes the breath hitch in his throat, makes a hand come down into her silky hair and stroke her scalp so softly it might as well not happen. It’s with her arms stretching above her head to touch his face as if he was the last glass of water and she was dying of thirst.

Her tongue darts out to catch a bead of sweat on his plating, and he utters a soft groan, curling his talons in her red hair and bundling it up.

“Spirits,” he whispers, and his voice is tight with desire, low with need, and Shepard’s tongue is both too much and not nearly enough as it dances between shifting plates, catching some sweat here and licking a trail there. Garrus whispers her name, repeating it over and over as if it might grant him permission to enter the turian equivalent of Heaven. His voice comes from deep within his chest, a distinctive rumble that has Shepard’s heart aching and thumping aggressively against her ribcage.

She goes down on him in the most sensual manner one could imagine. Her plump, red lips wrap around his throbbing, leaking member and her hands skid up his thighs, crawling up to his hips where they settle, grabbing gently, and she does so with the faintest of hums, making him delirious with lust, and he wants little else than to just ravish her mouth.

But this is too good. It’s rare that they do it like this, and he wants to savor every moment of it. As such, it’s no surprise to anyone that he’s keeping his visor on and that he’s currently recording the action. With Shepard’s permission, of course. It’s not often that she cares whether he’s wearing it or not; she trusts him not to use it without permission. And Garrus has never done anything to betray her trust.

Her tongue darts out, pressing against the pulsating vein on the underside of him and licking a long, slow trail from the base to the slightly flat tip. On her way, she explores familiar ridges and well-known bumps and folds, letting the tip of her tongue rub against the rugged texture and hauling sigh after sigh after moan after moan from the turian as his hand tighten in her hair, careful not to scratch her scalp with his deadly sharp talons.

“Jane, you’re prodigious,” he whispers and cards his talons through her hair, letting go only to grip tightly again when she applies more pressure. She hollows out her cheeks and drags her mouth from his base and to the tip, earning a choked-off moan that disappears into thin air seconds after it’s released. She merely hums in response, the vibrations making his hide tingle and his back arch slightly off the bed while his other hand balls into a fist in the sheets.

“Jane, oh Spirits, Jane,” he mutters, and it’s all he can do to not just thrust his hips upwards to bury himself in her slick warmth. He focuses on his breathing that’s gone to the dogs, as humans said – an idiom he would probably never understand – and tries to get it under control again. It’s rugged and uneven, coming in short puffs of air that’s not nearly enough to supply his lungs with oxygen, and he’s getting dizzy, his mind spinning, reeling.

“What is it, my love?” she asks, nuzzling her lips against his cock and pressing soft kisses from base to tip, and her voice, oh Spirits, her _voice_! It was like angels whispering into his scarred ear, soothing and softly and cooing to him, promising him only good and delectable things.

“N-Nothing,” he stutters and looks down at her, at her face, her beautiful, beautiful face. Her hazelnut brown eyes gleam in the candles’ lighting, and strings of saliva and his own fluids stick to her lips, sparkling faintly. “You’re just so… I have no words, forgive me.”

She chuckles, and the sound makes his heart soar and skip a beat.

“I will always forgive you, Garrus,” she says, voice soft and low and full of dark and salacious promises, “although I don’t see what there is to forgive.”

If turians blushed, he’s fairly certain he would have.

She once more wraps her beautiful lips around his cock, hollows out her cheeks and sucks him slowly. There’s no rush, they’ve got all night, and they intend to utilize it to the fullest. Shepard hums softly, and her fingers deftly work the edges of his still shifting plates, touching just the right spots and making Garrus purr and gasp in ecstasy. She knows exactly how to work him, and it feels so _good_ , to have this kind of control over him. She can do practically anything she wishes, and Garrus is bound to follow, blind to any other choice.

His plates have shifted fully, allowing him to protrude completely from his grey-blue slit, and one of Shepard’s hands drapes around him, pumping him softly and slowly in rhythm with her mouth, bobbing slowly up and down while her cheeks are hollowed out, making her mouth seem that much tighter. It drives him crazy, and warmth pools in his lower stomach, coiled snakes twisting and turning in his gut as he heads for the edge dangerously fast.

There’s a hand in her hair again, this time twisting and tugging firmly and making her whine lowly against and around him, driving him mad. It’s intoxicating, her scent, her mouth, the gurgling, slurping sounds she has no control over, the way saliva trails down her chin and leaves a little pool between his legs, and he won’t trade it for anything in the whole wide galaxy.

His breathing is soft and shallow, gasping as she takes him into her throat and swallows around him, making him buck his hips up against her, and her hand not currently stroking him grips his hip tightly. Not restricting, but for support, and he keeps thrusting upwards and into her mouth, down into her throat, and it’s absolutely exhilarating. His throat is tight, his chest rising and sinking rapidly, and his hand fists in her hair, messing it up from where it had previously been so neat and silky smooth.

“Jane, I’m close,” he whispers, and she nods almost imperceptibly before squeezing him tightly and relaxing her throat, allowing him to thrust as wildly as he likes, but instead he just makes small gyrating motions with his hips, talons raking over her scalp, careful not to cut her open, and lets her mouth do all the work.

It doesn’t take long after that.

He comes with a breathy sob, overwhelmed but starved at the same time, and his back is arched off the bed, both of his hands gripping Shepard’s hair so tightly she whimpers, a beautiful sound that sends chills down his rigid spine.

He comes with her name on his breath, repeatedly, like he’s hailing her, praising her, which he could be for all he knows. Garrus breathes in, breathes out, does it again and again, but it’s not helping – his breathing is rugged; uneven and broken, it comes in sharp huffs, and he’s moaning and grunting as he releases down her throat. She swallows easily around him, expertly trained, and pulls back off when no more jets of cum hit the back of her throat, gasping for air.

She looks disheveled, and she looks beautiful; her face is red, hazelnut brown eyes dilated and half-lidded, tears in the corners. Her lips plump and lush, red and swollen, strings of saliva hanging from them and connecting to his cock. Nostrils flaring as she breathes in deeply, chest heaving, fingers trembling slightly as she continues to stroke him, more out of habit than anything else.

“You’re divine,” he whispers and lets go of her hair, instead takes her hands to drag her up to his eye-level, initiating a searing kiss from which he can taste himself. She sighs softly, compliantly, and curls into him, soaking up his body heat and pressing herself so tight against him they might as well be one, single unit.

It’s perfect like this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading hope you enjoyed <3


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